


Celebrate Me Home

by Rinsom



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, Family, Homophobia, M/M, Romerica
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-21 23:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinsom/pseuds/Rinsom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thoughtless action exposes Alfred and Lovino's relationship just days before Christmas with unfortunate consequences. AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“-n the frosty air. What a bright time-"

Alfred’s eyes popped open, tired and scratchy and already begging to close back. The sun, glaring through the window, only made things worse. He rolled over onto his stomach and pushed his head under the pillow, groaning. The blankets rolled with him, hugging his body and wrapping him in a tight bundle of warmth and darkness. Heaven if not for the blaring voice of Bobby Helms. 

“Shut that off,” he grumbled, his voice muffled even to his own ears. 

“-a swell time to go glidin’ in a one horse sleigh.”

“Arthur?” he asked a little louder. “Turn off your damn radio.”

The room was still, aside from his roommate’s clock-radio playing on, and Alfred ventured to peak out from his nice warm cocoon. 

The other bed, across the room, was empty and made as neatly as it was yesterday afternoon. He stared at it for a minute, blearily, letting that sink in. Made bed meant no Arthur. Which meant he’d have to actually get up if he wanted the thing turned off. He glared at its blurry image before swiping at his eyes, rubbing away the sleep, and sitting up. 

He stretched, wincing as his back popped painfully, but found himself not caring that much. His mattress sucked, but he’d only have to deal with it a couple more days, then he’d be home and in his normal bed in his own room. Sleeping late, his mom’s cooking, Christmas movies and caroling, and no roommates to deal with waking him up at the crack of… he looked over at the clock on Arthur’s nightstand. Ten. Could you even say the crack of ten? Eh, it was morning and he wasn’t an English major. That was Arthur, and he wasn’t around to gripe about him mauling the English language.

‘As if he wasn’t taking a machete to it last night,’ Alfred thought, remembering one particular rant Arthur had gone on about three quarters of the way through the night. He still wasn’t sure what Arthur’d been talking about, but he was pretty sure people had actually been able to understand Shakespeare when he talked, unlike the man yelling in his ear about _The Merchant of Venice._

He’d managed to shove him off onto someone else after that, but couldn’t remember who. He probably should’ve made sure he’d gotten home okay, but he didn’t feel like playing baby-sitter. And besides, he’d known just about everyone at their ‘Oh my God it’s finally over’ post-finals Christmas party last night. It was mostly their normal group. Alfred yawned and scratched his head. Still…

He absently reached over to the nightstand, in search of his phone, but hit wood instead of the familiar cool smooth screen.

Alfred looked over in slight alarm, hastily grabbing his glasses and shoving them on his face.

He shifted around, digging through the sheets and blankets, then under the pillow. The search quickly spread to his clothes from last night, still lying where he’d dropped them, then when that turned up nothing he braved the cold floor to look on the chest of drawers and desk and, in a last ditch effort, under the bed. Still nothing.

That wasn’t good. 

“I’m getting nuttin’ for Christmas. Mommy and Daddy are mad. I’m getting nuttin’ for Christmas-"

“Oh shut up."

He’d only had that phone for a few months, but he’d spent just as many begging for it before that. If he couldn’t find it his parents were going to kill him. 

He’d had it last night. He remembered texting Lovi from the party, asking him why he hadn’t came, then proceeding to whine at him for staying locked up in the pottery building. 

But he couldn’t remember having it when he came back to the apartment. 

“Fuckin’ A,” he sighed, raking his hand through his hair. 

He glanced around his room for a minute; suddenly feeling very lost and cut off from the world, before looking down at his laptop. He stared at it for a moment before grabbing it and plopping down once again on the bed. It was a little risky, but if he posted a message maybe he’d get some info from someone before his parents saw it. It was Sunday. They’d be at church for another two hours. He’d just have to delete the evidence before noon. 

He never posted it. 

He got as far as typing in the first half of the address before noticing his email icon, specifically the fact that he’d gotten 27 messages overnight. He wasn’t completely certain he wanted to know why.

There was a long line of Facebook notifications. He clicked on one randomly. 

Feliks Łukasiewicz posted on your Wall  
“Cool. Took you guys long enough”

He stared at the screen for a second as a sick sense of foreboding started to gather in his gut, before going back to his inbox and looking at the messages again. They were almost all from Facebook, except for one from his brother, sent in the middle of the night:

“Al, check facebook now!”

And another:

“We need to talk. Call me.”

And another, sent just about an hour ago: 

“…you idiot.”

Matt calling him an idiot wasn’t really anything new, at one point it was pretty much a daily occurrence, but somehow this time it felt like a punch to the gut. 

With a short click on the mouse he back out of the message and looked down at the first bolded subject line:

Francis Bonnefoy tagged you in a photo on facebook.

He clicked on the message, then through the link…

And stilled, finding himself staring at the picture he’d taken of him and Lovino a few days ago. The one his boyfriend had nearly killed him over. The one he’d promised to delete. The one that had just outed them both.


	2. Chapter 2

Even without his phone, it wasn’t hard to find Lovino, who’d been spending most of his free time in the art building for the past few weeks, finishing up final projects and helping a few of the professors. Things hadn’t been much different since school officially let out. Bluejay, the small window filled building used for painting, was the first place Alfred looked.

Walking up the wooden stairs leading to the entrance, Alfred prayed that somehow, against all logic, Lovino hadn’t seen the picture yet.

The door was opened a crack, despite the cool temperatures, and he peaked his head in. A figure stood with his back to the door, shoulders hunched and bent over a table. 

“Lovi?”

The figure turned suddenly. Alfred momentarily saw the rage flash through Lovino’s eyes before ducking from the paintbrush thrown at his head.

“Bastard!”

“Lovi-" he started as Lovino stalked towards him. 

“What do you want?” Lovino snapped, while trying to force the door closed. It would have been easier had half of Alfred’s upper body not been jammed in the doorway. He gave up after a moment and turned with a huff back to the table. 

Alfred stepped inside, holding his side just a little where the doorknob had dug in just above his hip. “Um,” he started, scratching his head and smiling. “At least we were dressed nice.”

Lovino was silent, his fists clenched and down to his sides. 

“I mean, I could have been wearing those old ratty jeans you hate. I mean, not that you could see the jeans in the picture, it’s really just the shoulders up. But it was the new shirt that you got me a few weeks ago that’s kind of itchy but looks good anyway, and-" he swallowed, realizing somewhere in his head that he was starting to ramble, and Lovino’s shoulders were getting tenser and a faint hint of red was showing on the back of his neck, and that probably meant that Lovino was really, really, really mad, because he’d done some stupid stuff before but he’d never seen his neck do that. “And-" And then he laughed and Lovino turned towards him, angry and eyes shining, and the world fell in.

“Don’t try to make this a joke! This is your fault idiot!”

“But I di-"

“Your phone. Your friends. Your stupid party. I told you not to take it! I told you to get rid of it!”

“I’m so-"

“No! I’m not done ye-" Lovino stopped and squeezed his eyes shut, shaking just a little, before starting again at a low tone. “You never listen. Everyone’s right. I think you’re going to and then you go and do whatever the fuck you want anyway. You go right ahead and do something, and you don’t think, and you suck people into your stupid and-" Lovino stopped again, then turned his head. 

The room was cold and still as they both stood, neither of them saying a word. 

“Have you talked to them yet?” Alfred finally asked, daring to break the silence.

“Who?” Lovino asked, even though they both knew, even though his voice caught a little with that one word. 

Alfred swallowed and crossed his arms tightly. They were both in the same situation. Conservative backgrounds. Conservative families. The only difference was that his was Southern Baptist and Lovi’s was Catholic. 

“It’s not too late to deny things, right?” Alfred asked, even though he knew it was a hopeless cause. Even with Lovi’s flushed embarrassment and his shock at seeing the flash of the camera, their expressions in the picture were just too open, too happy. Too obvious. “I can fi-" 

Lovino looked up at him sharply. “What? Fix this?”

“Yeah,” Alfred smiled. “I mean it was just a peck on the cheek right? I could say it’s a joke, it’s a-"

“Stop! Just… stop okay. You can’t fix everything. When will you get it through your head? You can’t fix this.”

“How do you know?” Alfred asked, throwing his hands in the air. “Maybe if we just laugh it off-"

“Well, what if I don’t want to?” 

Alfred blinked, uncertain about how to take that, but unable to completely tamp down a little flutter in his chest.

“Do you-" 

“I don’t know!” 

“Would you stop interrupting me already?” Alfred cried, frustration boiling over. “How do you know what I was going to say? You didn’t even listen!”

“No! Because I don’t know! I would’ve said that to _anything_ because I. Don’t. Know.”

“Anything?” Alfred asked, stomach clenching. Anything including at least one possibility he wasn’t ready for. 

Lovino shrugged, looking away. 

“Lov-"

“Go.”

“But-"

“Just go!” Lovino yelled. “We’re getting no where with this so just go.”

Alfred stood there for a minute, trying to see if he was bluffing, but there was nothing behind the glower but anger. “Yeah,” he said, looking down at his feet. “Yeah. I’m gonna go get my cell, so call me later. Or should I call y-" Alfred noted the tightening lines around Lovino’s eyes and stopped himself. He smiled faintly and walked out the door. 

*` * *

“Really Francis? This is a dick move even for you.”

The university’s resident French asshole had the nerve to try looking innocent as Alfred stormed towards him. “I meant nothing of it,” he stated simply, then started explaining why he’d felt it necessary to spread the happy news of their relationship to the rest of the world. 

Alfred walked away 2 minutes later hoping Francis’ face hurt as much as his fist did.

* * *

“Maybe it would be best if you stayed at school this year.”

“Right. Thanks Matt.”

* `* *

Twelve unreturned calls to his parents

Eleven supportive well-wishers

Ten times his brother called him an idiot

Nine times his brother told him he loved him

Eight times someone asked him if he wanted to talk 

Seven days since the whole mess began

Six angry texts and emails from Lovino’s friends

Five Facebook messages saying he was going to burn in hell

Four relatives “praying for his deliverance”

Three articles sent to him about reparative therapy

Two Days ‘til Christmas

And a partridge in a pear tree.

 

…No word from Lovi.


	3. Chapter 3

Christmas Eve was cold and windy, but not cold enough to turn the persistent drizzle into snow. Every so often it would fall against the window pane, sending the pattering tick tick tick throughout the apartment. Its rooms, like the campus and surrounding neighborhood, were empty. His friends had left out one by one over the past week, off to spend the holidays with family. Arthur had been the last, leaving out for London two days prior. He had stood, hemming and hawing and doing an odd little shuffle on his way out the door, reluctance showing clearly until Alfred planted on a grin and reassured him that yes, he had something to do for the holidays and that no, of course he wouldn’t spend it stuck in the apartment. His extended family always had a moderate sized get-together on Christmas Eve and they were only about an hours drive away.

Part of that was true of course. The Jones family homestead, now inhabited by his Aunt Jen, was the site of their yearly Christmas get-together, eight aunts and uncles, twenty-some cousins counting all the generations, as well as a three or four dogs all converging on one location. Well, when he was younger at least. The celebration had thinned out over the past few years, several families having moved, his included. He hadn’t actually gone since his and Matt’s second year of high school, when their dad had gotten a new job and moved them two states away. He _had_ gotten an invitation at the beginning of the month though, aside from the standing unsaid ‘it’s Christmas Eve come eat with us’ sort of thing. Aunt Jen had sent him a card with an actual ‘You’re always welcome and we’d love to see you. Just in case you can’t get home’ message attached.

So yeah, that part was all true. He’d just left out the fact that he wasn’t sure if the invitation still stood. 

So with that information, or lack of information, and with a clap on the shoulder and a grin, Alfred pushed him out the door. Arthur wished him a Merry Christmas and headed to the airport.

And thus began his internet, video games, and bad sci-fi movies binge. All in all, Christmas break as usual. The only difference being, Alfred thought as he stretched out on the couch, that no one would bug him about staying up too late, or grabbing the last poptart. No one would accuse him of cheating on Mario Kart or grab him and make him watch stupid Christmas movies he’d already seen a million times before, or drag him out in the cold to carol at houses, where at about half they’d find nobody at home. No one would fix hot chocolate for them after (extra whip cream for him and Dad, cocoa powder on Matt’s, and cinnamon sprinkled on hers). No one would beat his ass at air hockey in the basement and then crow for a full half hour after about ‘beating a kid 26 years his junior for the 3rd time in a row’. No one would race him to the sleds kept in the garage during the rare Christmas break snows. No one would put up with him waking them up at four in the morning, when he pulled them out of bed because four a.m. is most definitely Christmas morning. 

The tv in front of him blared with a Christmas advertisement and the rain pattered loudly against the window, filling the apartment with noise. Alfred let his head fall against the back of the couch and cast a glance at the phone sitting just out of reach on the coffee table.

He couldn’t remember ever having a Christmas so quiet.

 

* * *

There had to be something wrong with him. Otherwise he wouldn’t have picked that card back up and told himself that they hadn’t told him not to come. 

His palms felt moist against the steering wheel and his stomach was turning itself inside out. He knew it had nothing to do with the curvy mountain road and everything to do with the small red brick church with white porch he had passed just a few miles back, where he’d listened to sermons full of hellfire and ate chicken dumplings and laughed and prayed and sang Silent night every year on the Sunday morning before Christmas, where a good portion of his family still went and which just last year had posted it’s official standing on homosexuals on the bulletin board in the lobby. 

Sitting in the long driveway leading up to the Jones homestead, Alfred whispered a silent wish, prayer, something, and tried to breathe. He looked up once at the lights twinkling against the dark sky, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly before letting go and reaching for the door handle. 

* * *

There had to be something wrong with him. Otherwise why would his aunt Jen have had that look on her face when she opened the door? Why would the room have been so quiet for that minute as he walked through the kitchen? Why had his cousin Ben grabbed Ella’s arm when she tried to launch her giggling four year old form at Alfred’s legs as usual? 

The question raged through his head as he walked back to his car, gravel scattering with his need to just get out, get away. 

“Alfred!” A voice, his cousin Amy, yelled behind him, accompanied by footfalls. “Hey, wait.”

He turned, his stomach fluttering with a faint half hope that maybe they wanted him to come back before he squashed it with common sense.

The look on her face proved that to be the right choice. 

“Hey,” he said with a smile as she approached. 

“Here,” she said, holding out a couple of styrofoam plates. 

“Mm?” he hummed, looking down at the plates as he took them. Although the light was dim he could see the small assortment of candy and cookies underneath the colored plastic wrap. 

“Aunt Beth thought this might- when you came in she had a feeling so-" she crossed her arms and looked down, shuffling her feet a little out of discomfort, from the cold or something else Alfred couldn’t tell. “She stuck some of her sugar cookies in there, and there’s some bourbon balls and buckeyes, and a few other things. There’s some smokies and meatballs and I don’t know what else underneath there,” she said, gesturing outwards. “Couldn’t grab any punch. Sorry.”

“Ah, thanks.” He said, sincerely. “I mean, yeah, the punch would have been a little-"

“I mean, we could have grabbed a mason jar or something,” she said, reaching up and tugging on her hair. “But that would have looked a little odd, so-"

She looked away a little at that and Alfred felt his heart sink just a little. So they didn’t want anyone to know about the food. He looked down at the plate, rubbing the edge of it with his thumb. “No,” he said. “No that’s fine.”

They stood in the cold for a minute, the conversation as frozen as their fingers, before Alfred reached down for the car door. “Well, thanks. Tell Aunt Beth thanks, kay?” Amy stepped back, glancing up at the house, as the lights of the car came on, surrounding them. He turned towards the open door and leaned down to place the plate on the dash, pretending he didn’t notice. 

“Al, wait,” she said suddenly, reaching out to grip the top of the door, or rather his hand which rested on it. It was the first time anyone in his family had purposefully touched him since the whole mess came out and that’s all it took to make him realize how much he missed Uncle Bill’s squashing hugs, or Aunt Mandy’s hair ruffles. 

“Things will-" she cut herself off, biting her lip. “Just give them some time okay?”

He said nothing, just squeezed her hand and smiled and nodded, because all of a sudden he didn’t think he could talk without his voice cracking. And with that she let go and was jogging back up the driveway. He watched her for a second before turning and ducking into the car, turning his sight away from the house and towards the road ahead of him. 

It took almost the full trip back to his apartment for his mind to catch up with his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

The campus was nearly abandoned as he drove through, still and quiet and far too empty compared to many of the homes he had passed, full of life and light and warmth. The Christmas lights that had framed a few dorm windows were gone, the windows darkened. The neighborhoods surrounding campus weren’t much better, most of the residents being college students or young adults either visiting family, out partying, or just too apathetic to put up Christmas decorations to begin with. His own complex was dark; the only signs of Christmas being the wreath the manager had put on the sign out front. 

As he pulled into the parking lot though, something caught his eye. A space, two away from where he typically parked and which had been empty for the past five days, was now occupied. The small car, familiar enough to make his pulse jump just a little, was on, spilling white clouds into the darkness. As Alfred put his car in park, the driver glanced towards him just a second before turning his head swiftly away. 

Alfred remained still for a moment, looking out the window. He had seen it, the outline of a face, the dark hair. He knew them both. His stomach clenched in nervousness. He sat there for a moment, his mouth dry and his heart hammering away, before taking a deep breath, grabbing the plates from the passenger seat, and stepping out. As his door slammed shut he heard another one open. 

He started around the car and glanced up at the wrong moment. His feet slid on a patch of ice as he stepped up onto the sidewalk and he jerked in a breath, body freezing as it prepared to hit the pavement. Instead of the cold ground however, he felt warm arms wrapping around him and keeping him steady.

“Hi,” he said hesitantly, and just like that they were gone.

Lovino stood a foot or so away with his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched and tight. “Hey.”

“Thanks,” Alfred said, the shock of feeling his feet slip out from under him just starting to wear off. 

“What? Did you expect me to let you break your neck?”

Alfred smiled and shrugged. “Right now I know of a few people who probably wouldn’t mind if you had. But what are you doing here anyway? Aside from keeping my spinal column intact?”

“Freezing my ass off.” Lovino wrapped his arms around himself. “Where have you been bastard?” he asked, as if he’d expected him to stay locked in his apartment all day. Maybe he had.

“It’s Christmas?” Alfred said with a shrug. “Family stuff.” He cursed himself as he heard that little bit of a waver in his voice. “Thought you were going home.”

“I did.”

“Oh.” Alfred winced. 

“No.” Lovino said quickly, looking up. “No it actually wasn’t-" He paused, turning back to his car. “It… yeah it was kind of awkward and stuff. And Uncle Lewis walked out as soon as he saw me walk in. But he’s always been an ass. Ma’s just mostly pissed about the grandkids thing and Dad…” Lovino shrugged. “He’ll get used to it.”

“As for everyone else… Well, no one messes with Grandpa. I’ve told you that, right? Turns out he got around a bit before he married Grandma, and we already kind of knew that. But I guess he wasn’t as discriminating as we thought. And with one of his grandkids getting outed and then another coming out in solidarity.” Lovino looked up at him. “And I mean literally. Feliciano, that idiot. There’s this German bastard that came on an exchange program last summer that-" Lovino cut himself off with a growl. “Dammit, bastard, why are you being so quiet?”

Alfred looked up, surprised, then paused a minute. He bit his lip and breathed out “I’m sorry.” And for a second he wasn’t certain if he was apologizing for not talking or for _everything_ , but the tightness freezing him broke apart just a little with those words, and he felt like he’d kicked because everything else in him suddenly felt like it was breaking apart too. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again a little louder, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. “You were right, and I didn’t think and I messed things up.” His voice was rough and his eyes were starting to burn. “I messed everything up Lovi. And I don’t know h-" His voice cracked and he felt a bit of warmth on his face. He swiped at it but more just came in its place, leaving cold collecting around the bottom of his glasses before running down his cheeks. “And everyone-" He cut himself off before swallowing and starting again, looking down at the chunk of ice he had slipped on. “I thought you hated m-"

“No, wait. Stop right there.” Lovino said, bridging the gap between them, bringing his hand up Alfred’s face, trying to tilt it up. “Look at me.” Alfred fought him for a moment, but Lovino growled, “Look at me, okay,” and Alfred complied, uncertainly. Lovino looked at him a moment, his eyes searching, before breathing in and continuing, “Yeah it was stupid. You fucked up and… and yeah things are a little messed up right now-" Alfred made a little choked sound and Lovino tilted his head with a pained look on his face. “Okay, so yeah things are a lot messed up right now. But- but I couldn’t hate you. Why would you-" Lovino winced. “I love you okay. I don’t hate you.” 

He rubbed at the wet lines on Alfred’s face, frowning, and reached into one jacket pocket, then the other, both times coming up empty, before reaching down to Alfred’s and shaking his head. He pulled out a wadded, but unused tissue, and shook it, making tiny particles of dust fly in the glow from the light pole a little ways off. “Idiot,” he grumbled as he wiped at Alfred’s face, then handed him the tissue. 

Alfred took it from him and finished wiping around his glasses and under his nose. He cleared his throat and asked, “Can we go in or- I mean would you like to-" He stumbled over his words, still uncertain as to whether things were back to normal (things are never getting back to normal, a little voice whispered in his mind) or something else. He pushed on anyway. “It’s kind of cold and-"

“About time you asked, bastard. Do you know how long I’ve been sitting here?” Lovino asked, with a tiny scowl, but both his eyes and his voice were filled with a warmth that wrapped Alfred in calm comfort. 

“Great,” Alfred said, bouncing on his toes a little, feeling lighter than he had in over a week. “I’ve got a new game I’ve been wanting to show you.” He rambled on about his new toy while Lovino grabbed a few plastic bags out of the car _‘don’t look bastard, it’s Christmas’_ , then they made their way up to the apartment, both of them sighing as they walked through the door into the warm room. 

It was after they had pulled their coats off, when Alfred was rubbing Lovino’s chilled hands and slowly moving closer towards him that Alfred’s stomach made its displeasure known. 

“I thought you said you were doing family stuff. Didn’t they feed you? Or are you even more of a bottomless pit than I thought?” Lovino asked, already walking to the kitchen with his plastic bags. 

Alfred frowned and followed. 

“Hey. What-" Lovino peaked around the corner and paused, as Alfred walked towards him. He blinked, taking in Alfred’s expression. “Things didn’t go well, did they?”

Alfred shook his head. 

Lovino paused, then walked forward and put his hand on Alfred’s chest, pushing him back out of the kitchen. “Wait out there, okay. Go get a movie ready or something.”

Alfred nodded and walked back to the couch, plopping himself down and flipping through the channels, after a few minutes settling on _A Christmas Story_. It was about the time that Santa’s foot was coming towards Ralphy’s head that Lovino walked in carrying two plates. 

Alfred looked down at the one set in front of him. “Fish?” 

Lovino nodded, setting his plate down before heading back into the kitchen. “We always eat fish on Christmas Eve,” he yelled from the other room. “It’s when the whole family comes together,” he said, walking back towards the couch with a couple of drinks. 

Alfred frowned, and looked up at him as Lovino settled in beside him. “You know, you never really answered me earlier. You were going home. You went home. Why are you here?”

Lovino leaned forward, looking down at his plate and pushing a piece of calamari with his fork. “Because you’re here. Ma…” he started, leaning back on the couch, “I was talking to her about stuff. She was the one who said I should come. Try to fix things.” Lovino smiled. “Loaded me down with this,” he said, gesturing towards the plates, “and pretty much shoved me out the door. She also demanded I bring you to mass tomorrow morning so she can get a good look at you.”

“Is that…” Alfred trailed off, thinking about the row that would happen if he happened to walk into his family’s church with Lovino. 

“It’s fine,” Lovino said. “We might get a few looks, but it’s not like we’re going to be holding hands or anything, so they can just fuck off.”

Alfred nodded and dug into his food, occasionally asking what something was or laughing at something in the movie, but mostly just enjoying the warm presence he’d missed more than he could have realized.

A few hours later when the movie had restarted and they had made their way through another plate of food and half of the sugar cookies, and he’d bugged Lovino about his gift and Lovino had made it very _very_ clear that Christmas gifts were for Christmas morning, they sat on the couch, curled in on each other. Alfred glanced every so often at the phone sitting just across from them. Part of him was still holding out for a Christmas miracle, though another realized that that’s not really how things worked. Lovino must have noticed after a bit, because he shifted around to look up at him and said, “Give it some time.” The same thing Amy had told him earlier that night; that Matt had been telling him all week. 

Alfred nodded and curled deeper into himself and Lovino, closing his eyes and settling in against the warmth at his side. This time he’d try to listen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, last chapter. Thanks for reading along. I hope you guys have enjoyed reading this as much as I have writing it. On a side note, I’ve found I tend to compile a list of songs for each story that I write, so here’s the list for this one, in case anyone’s interested in seeing some of the inspiration for this thing.
> 
> Celebrate me Home- Kenny Loggins (Title song and the one that pretty much inspired this whole thing)  
> Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree- Bobby Helms  
> Nuttin’ for Christmas- Sugarland  
> River - Robert Downey Jr.  
> I'll be home for Christmas - Bing Crosby  
> Just for Now – Imogen Heap  
> Have a little faith in me – John Hiatt


End file.
